


The First Noel

by leopoldjamesfitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 12:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopoldjamesfitz/pseuds/leopoldjamesfitz
Summary: “Why do you guys have a tree in your house?”The evergreen sits undecorated in the corner of the room. She and Fitz had been by the tree yard earlier that day to retrieve what would forever be known as their very first Christmas tree as a married couple. Subsequently, it would also be the first one in their new home together.Jemma looked up from her post on the couch, watching him curiously for a moment. Deke continued to stare at the tree, almost as though it was going to bite him. She smiled a little at the sight and shook her head a little before turning back to her task.“It’s a Christmas tree,” she explained, dipping back down to sort through the box of ornaments that their parents had put together for them. “Or it will be. I’m afraid right now, it’s a little bare.”





	The First Noel

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Belated Christmas to everyone alike and thank you all for reading my stories and giving me feedback throughout them. This one goes out to @221bdragonslayer on tumblr who is my giftee for the Fitz-Simmons Secret Santa challenge over there. I hope you enjoy it!

“Why do you guys have a tree in your house?”

The evergreen sits undecorated in the corner of the room. She and Fitz had been by the tree yard earlier that day to retrieve what would forever be known as their very first Christmas tree as a married couple. Subsequently, it would also be the first one in their new home together.

It had to be perfect, and for the most part, it was. There were a few spots that needed trimming, and needles from the fir tree were already decorating the floor, but it was part of the tradition she’d grown up with. And part of the tradition that she hoped to continue with Fitz and perhaps, later on, their own family.

A fresh Christmas tree meant the beginning of the Christmas season, officially, in the Simmons household. Every December 1st since she’d been a girl (minus, of course, the ones that had been spent at the Academy, or Sci-Ops, or on the BUS, and most of the time in the Playground) had been the same. Her family would all bundle up, regardless of the weather, and choose their tree.

Jemma remembered those times fondly, even if their family hadn’t always had the best time picking them. Being the youngest, Jemma had always had first pick, unless she decided to give the privilege to her older brother or sister, which wasn’t often, and that often the reason for their little squabbles. She still remembered the looks that her parents shared, pure exasperation as the three children squabbled.

It was also, of course, one of the first things that she had mentioned to Fitz after they had settled, which was back in August of that year. He’d grumbled about it then, a grumpiness to his tone when he reminded her how Christmas was too bloody far away to be worrying about yet, but she’d gotten her way in the end. If only because she’d woken him up earlier that day in the best possible way.

Jemma looked up from her post on the couch, watching him curiously for a moment. Deke continued to stare at the tree, almost as though it was going to bite him. She smiled a little at the sight and shook her head a little before turning back to her task.

“It’s a Christmas tree,” she explained, dipping back down to sort through the box of ornaments that their parents had put together for them. “Or it will be. I’m afraid right now, it’s a little bare.”

She cast another glance up at Deke, who hadn’t moved away from the Christmas tree, but hadn’t moved toward it either. From within the box, Jemma pulled out a small handmade star, obviously Fitz’s work, and held it up, a small gasp coming from her lips. It was old; she could tell by the way the clay had begun to oxidize, but it was no less perfect than if he’d just made it.

Her lips curled into a small, pleased smile as she took the ornament into her hands and admired it quietly. The paint job was a little messy, and he’d missed a spot here and there – or was that just age that had stripped away the bare spots – but she pictured her husband, much younger than he was now, sitting down, all too proud to make it for his Mum. It was easily already one of Jemma’s favorites, and she’d barely had a moment to search through the rest of the box.

Meanwhile, Deke finally turned his attention away from the tree, though when Jemma lifted her gaze, she noticed his furrowed eyebrows and concentrated look first, and the way he’d stepped away from the tree second. Amusement colored her features. “What is Christmas, and why do you need a tree in your house for it?” He asked, tucking his hands into his pocket. She did not miss the sideways glance had given the evergreen as he stepped closer to her instead. “I thought you told me that living things belonged in nature,” he added, remembering the conversation that they’d had a couple of months prior when Jemma had convinced him to let the caterpillar he’d found while on a picnic go.

He’d named the small insect and everything and had already planned which area of his room would be the caterpillars. But Jemma had reasoned with him that it was better for the caterpillar to grow outside in nature, where it was supposed to be. What made this any different?

Jemma looked up from the ornament and laughed good naturedly at his petulant pout. Really, a part of her felt silly; there was absolutely no reason that Deke would have known anything about any holiday, never mind Christmas. The Lighthouse in 2091 hardly seemed like the environment were people would get together and exchange gifts and good will for the new year, after all.

Laying the ornament in her palms back in the box gently, she brushed away any residual glitter from an ornament she was fairly certain was her own design and stood up, placing her hand on Deke’s shoulder. Not for the first time, she felt pity for him. In his timeline, they hadn’t succeeded. The world had cracked apart. He’d grown up without knowing what the sun felt like, or what grass was, or what it felt like to be safe.

“It’s a bit different,” she explained patiently, moving to tug Fitz’s cardigan around her shoulders. The cold December air still nipped inside the home, even though it was hardly cold within their cottage. They had spent quite a while before properly moving into their home making sure that it would stand through the cold Scotland winter.

(Even if Fitz had insisted they could find much better ways to keep each other warm.)

Jemma smiled a little at the memory, meeting her grandson’s eyes. “See, a very long time ago, supposedly a man was born whose name was Jesus Christ, and there was this whole big thing with his birthday – even though, its more likely to have been in July, not December – but since then, people have been celebrating this day.” She explained as simply as she could, though the look he gave her was enough for her to realize he might be a tad overwhelmed. “Although, over the centuries, its become more of an event where people young and old can come together, exchange gifts, and spend time together.”

Deke nodded his head, as though taking in the information. He still looked far too overwhelmed, but before either of them had a moment to say another word, the front door opened up and Fitz stepped in, shaking the snow from his hair as he simultaneously stomped away the remains from his boots. Jemma offered him a small smile as he pulled them off and laid them on the boot tray, his coat following soon after and he shivered as the warmth of their home enveloped him.

“Hey,” he murmured, moving toward her quietly. She leaned into his touch the moment he was close enough to give it to her, sighing happily when his lips pressed against her forehead. His lips were freezing, along with his fingertips, which she could feel as they pressed into her back, even through the double layer of his cardigan and her sweatshirt. “You didn’t finish decorating?” He murmured, sounding awfully sad about that thought.

Jemma rolled her eyes when he pulled away, patting his side gently as she shook her head. “Promised I’d wait for you,” she murmured, a sly smile pulling against her cheeks as he rolled his eyes and pecked her lips. She shivered when they touched, a warmth spreading through her nonetheless. She’d never get over the simple moments, the things that they took for granted when they still worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. They had years to make up for, and it was funny that something so simple could make her day the way that it did now.

They shared a look, thinking of where Fitz had just been as his hand ran down the length of her back, a silent promise to have a talk later about what his therapist had said today. Fitz was doing better every day, and he promised to tell her when it got too much, but she knew that after a session, he always needed to unwind. And for that, she was always happy to listen to anything and everything that he had to say.

“Seriously, guys?” Deke exclaimed from their side, letting out a disgruntled sigh. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Fitz quipped, smirking up at Deke. At least they seemed to be getting along better, the teasing light and not at all directed the way it used to be. Jemma knew, if anything, it was progress, albeit small progress.

Jemma rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder. “Be good,” she reminded him with a patient stare, though the flicker of a grin he gave her in response only made her laugh. “Actually, speaking of decorating and Christmas, I was just telling Deke about it.”

Fitz paused, seemingly taking in that information himself as he scratched at his beard, nodding contemplatively. “Yeah,” he murmured, coming onto the realization far quicker than she had. “Don’t suppose you would have had that where you grew up. I don’t suppose we would have even had the chance to tell your Mum about it either.”

Talk of Deke’s Mum was always difficult. Not just for Deke, but for the both of them as well. Jemma ached whenever she thought of their daughter, growing up in a world like that, having to watch both of them taken away from them. A life that she would have never wished for anyone, let alone a beautiful baby girl that they had brought to life within the Lighthouse walls.

It still hit her from time to time how lucky they were, now, with the future as open and changed as it was, to give the children they had – if they decided to go with that route – a better life. But she knew, somewhere, deep down that with every milestone and every thing that their future children would have, she’d think of the daughter they’d had who did not and want all the more to give their children everything that she should have had.  

Jemma smiled solemnly, nodding her head as she met Deke’s gaze. He smiled back, though his heart wasn’t in it. “Well,” she told him quietly, pressing her hand to his cheek and offering him a bright smile. “We’ll just have to make up for it this year, won’t we?”

Their collective groans at the cheerfulness in her voice only fueled her more, though she did catch the excited looks that crossed their faces when they thought she wasn’t looking, the look they shared as Fitz clapped his shoulder and moved toward the box of ornaments that she hadn’t had the chance to organize yet.

Together, the three of them laid garland and tinsel, lit the room up with the small display of lights that they’d purchased the week before and laid a crafted angel on top of the tree, huddling together in front of it when it was all said and done.

The tree, easily, was the messiest part of the room, but neither of them dared to move a single bulb. Its perfect imperfections made it the best part of the holiday.

 

* * *

 

“I’m just supposed to decorate this with icing?” He asked, looking down at the cookie that was badly shaped in the figure of a person.

Deke might have snuck a few drops of the icing when Jemma had been making it earlier, before she’d left the two of them alone in the kitchen to have a conversation with her Mom, and Deke guessed, his great-grandmother. The whole situation was a bit weird, even for his standards. Either way, he would have preferred to just eat the icing on it’s own.

“At least make one or two before you eat the icing,” Fitz said, although he was concentrated in designing his own… were they were supposed to be circles? Deke furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if his grandfather could read his mind. “That’s what I do,” he murmured before checking the entrance to the living room and dropping a dollop of it into his mouth before he moved back to the decorating.

Deke furrowed his eyebrows again and looked at the icing. His cookies weren’t quite as immaculate as Fitz or Jemma’s, but they looked good, at least in his personal opinion.

With a huff, he shrugged a shoulder and moved to continue designing his own cookie, just as his grandma moved back into the room, humming along to Christmas tunes. She was wearing what they called an ‘ugly sweater’ even though the design wasn’t all that ugly at all and something called a Santa hat. He had one too, though he wasn’t quite sure what the purpose of it was for. Was it supposed to be decorative? Or fashionable?

“My Mum and your Mum are conspiring together,” Jemma announced as she moved into the kitchen, grabbing the glass of wine that she and Fitz had been sharing. “I think they’re planning on invading our home this Christmas time.”

Fitz snorted, shaking his head a little, but didn’t look up from what he was drawing. Deke wanted to ask him what he was drawing. At least it was looking less like just a circle now. “I’m honestly not surprised. More surprised that it’s taken them this long, really.”

Their parents were great, in Deke’s opinion. And it wasn’t just because Fitz’s Mom snuck him sweets whenever he spent time with her. From the stories that Jemma and Fitz had both shared with him, Deke was jealous enough that they seemed like overly loving, kind and gentle human beings. The kind of people that were scarce in the Lighthouse. One of the last people Deke knew was his own mother, and she’d been killed for that, in the grand scheme of things. It felt nice to know that people like that were this kind beyond the immediate circle that he’d been surrounded in growing up.

But knowing Fitz and Jemma the way he’d gotten to know them, he shouldn’t have been all that surprised, he supposed. Even when Fitz was at his bristliest days, he was kind. Deke watched the exchange with a tiny smile and drew a smile on the cookie he was supposed to be designing. He hadn’t done much except for draw hair on them and color in some things that might’ve resembled clothes.

Jemma moved up behind them, peaking her head over their shoulders as she caught a glimpse of both of their cookies. “Fitz, your wreaths are lovely,” she commented, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Ah, that’s what those were called. If only he could figure out what a wreath was. He’d have to use his phone and search it up later. “And oh, goodness, Deke. Your cookies are… they’re beautiful.”

Deke felt his cheeks warmed at the genuineness of her tone and dipped his head a little, stealing a dollop of icing when she turned her back. If she noticed the way his cheeks puffed out when she turned her head back, she didn’t mention it, though she did level them both with a grin when Fitz startled chuckling lowly. Jemma pulled a chair up to the front of them and took another sip of the glass of wine, handing it to Fitz when he extended his hand.

“So, why are we decorating cookies?” He asked, wishing not for the first time that he could just eat the icing. Although it had given him a bad stomach the last time he’d eaten too much of it and Jemma hadn’t been pleased when she’d found out.

Jemma leaned back into the chair, eying the mess they’d already made. “Well, when I was little, my father and I used to decorate them for the neighbors.” She explained with a soft smile. “I’m sure mine were actually horrible, but my father used to be so pleased with the results and the neighbors never said a bad thing about them.” She explained, a patient, but loving smile on her face. She looked down at their designs and sighed wistfully. “I thought it would be a nice tradition to continue.”

She let out a gentle sigh as she laid the wine glass back down on the top of the island and thought once more of the lifetime another version of them had lived where things like this wouldn’t have been able to be enjoyed. They would have been far too busy worrying about their lives, especially considering the fact that they had all changed their names. Their daughter would have missed out on opportunities like this. Would have missed out on the simplest moments in life that they unquestionably took for granted.

When she looked up, Fitz was watching her. People always said that they seemed to know what the other was thinking, but she wondered in that moment as he reached over and squeezed his hand with hers. She offered him a tiny smile.

Deke nodded, although he seemed oblivious to their interaction as he turned toward Fitz, holding the bag of icing against his chest. “What about you?” He asked, sneaking around to grab a candy melt from the bowl in front of Fitz’s. It was probably good with their combined appetite and snacking habits that she had plenty to go around. He, at the very least, had the gall to look ashamed when he caught her glimpse. “Did your parents do anything for this Christmas thing?”

Jemma wondered, seeing Fitz tense under his question, if she shouldn’t have warned Deke more about Fitz’s past. She’d told her husband long ago that it was his story to tell, and when he was ready to share it with their grandson, then she would be there every step of the way. But it would be hard for Deke to wrap his mind around it. Even though he had a less than stellar memory of his own father, he’d been an upstanding guy. Carried on his wife’s memory until his last breath, never losing hope.

Alistair Fitz, however, was not.

Mairi had done what she could when Fitz was smaller, even when his father hadn’t been around. But the Fitzs weren’t exactly doing the same things that the Simmonses were. She turned their hands around and squeezed hers around his as he laid the icing down. Deke didn’t notice how tense he was, or how unlevelled his breathing had become, but she did.

Jemma squeezed his hand a little tighter when his jaw clenched.

“No,” he said after a long moment, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “It was just my Mum and I mostly. When I was a bit older, we’d watch the Doctor Who special, but not much else.”

She knew about the Christmas’ that were spent looking through the window, wondering if his Dad would show up or not. Or the ones that he did show up and ruin them. When their eyes met again, the only thing she could do was link their fingers and smiled softly.

His experience with Christmas had never been the best, but she had promised the day he’d told her about all of it, the day they’d turned red arguing over the importance of Christmas and the lot when they were still in Sci-Ops that he would never experience another one like that.

(She’d broken his promise a couple of times through their time in S.H.I.E.L.D., but he’d yet to hold it against her.)

“Oh,” Deke observed after a moment, stealing another candy melt. “That’s cool, too, I guess.” He added, and then went back to decorating without another word.

Jemma brought Fitz’s hand up to her lips and kissed their joined knuckles, smiling a little when he squeezed her hand before dropping it to continue decorating his own. She smiled wider when his forehead wrinkled, a clear sign of his concentration and shook her head slowly.

This, she thought, was unquestionably the perfect start to a new tradition in their new lives together. The three of them, together, happy and safe.

 

* * *

 

Fitz came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the crevice of her neck as she settled back. Both of them watched out of the bay window in the front of their home as the snow fell in wispy billows.

“It’s the first snow of the season,” she murmured quietly, and he nodded against her neck, laughing silently when she squirmed in his arms. The scruff on his cheeks that she was all too fond of tickling her neck. “Remember our first winter after the Academy?”

Fitz hummed. “We both fell asleep watching the telly and when we woke up, it was snowing and I convinced you to go out in it with me,” he said, the reminder warming her up. Although neither of them had been warm at the time.

The snow had been just as wispy as it was now. If not accelerated by the wind. If she thought about it hard enough, she could almost feel it sting her cheeks. It was a rather beautiful night, all things aside, and the ensuing win of the snowball fight they’d had made up for more than just the cold they suffered for days after.

Jemma smiled and nodded, remembering a time so much simpler than the ones they’d been through since. They’d snuggled under a blanket with hot cocoa the moment she’d convinced him to go back inside, when their lips were blue and their fingers numb and everything about that evening had just been wonderful.

“And you still went in to work the next day, smothered with a cold, because you wouldn’t be the one who called in sick after playing out in the snow for hours.” He murmured against her neck, laughing quietly at the reminder.

Jemma stared out into the snow, almost picturing them then. Tossing poorly sculpted snowballs, dodging the hits the other would throw with precision and grace before one of them would inevitably trip up and fall into the snow anyway. The laughter, the joy, the fun they’d had that night.

“Those were simpler times, weren’t they?” She asked, shivering a little when his lips pressed against the column of her neck again. He nodded against her neck and they both sighed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning in to kiss her cheek before he loosened his grip around her waist. She shifted in his arms, turning to him. “Maybe not everything has to change, though, yeah?”

She merely smiled in response.

About twenty minutes later, Deke emerged from the bathroom, wearing the sweater that Fitz’s Mum had knitted for him and into the kitchen where his grandparents were dancing to a rhythm all their own and trading turns to stir the pot on the stove. He smiled, watching them trade laughter and kisses, though the latter only left him grimacing, before Fitz looked up, as if suddenly noticing his presence.

Their laughter didn’t stop, but the two of them turned toward him, the arm that was secured around Jemma’s waist never loosening and his Nana beamed.

“We’re making hot cocoa,” she explained in way of a greeting, pointing toward the stove top. “Hot cocoa and a candy cane. It’s tradition on a cold winter’s night.”

Deke perked up, moving toward them. He’d had hot cocoa once or twice before on the base, though it was always the stuff that came in a can. It was good, and sweet enough, but there was something wonderful about the thought of it being homemade. It made him feel warm from the inside out. And he loved candy canes. Even if Jemma had to remind him from time to time to not eat so many.

Why was food so good if it made his stomach hurt so often?

In the end, they ended up all huddled together on the couch, watching a Christmas movie that Jemma said was one of her favorites, and sipping on cocoa.

Deke learned the first of the many Christmas carols that would fill the walls of their home that season, and even while he forgot most of the lyrics, he sung his heart out all the same.

It truly felt like this was exactly where they were supposed to be, she thought, tucking her head into the crevice of Fitz’s neck and placing her hand over his heart. From her peripheral, she could see him biting back laughter, but every now and again he would encouragingly correct Deke, helping him out when he got stuck.

She loved both of them, endlessly and completely, and not for the first time, thanked whatever higher power had helped them find their way there, in a cottage she’d been dreaming about since she was a girl, together and happy all at once.

 

* * *

 

Deke woke them up before the sun had risen on Christmas Day.

Jemma blamed herself, really, for the excitement that they had been plumping him up with over the course of the last few weeks. Or rather, what she had. Fitz had absolutely done his part, but the muffled groan in her ear when Deke came and shook the bed until they both woke was enough to tell her that he wouldn’t quite take credit for the early rise.

As much as Fitz complained throughout the waking, through their morning ritual and the descent down the stairs, she lit up at the whimsical look on his features when he saw the Christmas tree. He was far from the Grinch, and just as childlike as their grandson when it came to this holiday.

So even as he wrapped the cardigan he wore around his frame and complained about the cold of their home and how bloody early it was, she saw right through the grumpy exterior and smiled at the warmth underneath.

(He’d been the one to wake her up early on Christmas when they were still in the Academy. They’d been spending it in her parents’ home, planning to spend the New Year with his Mum, and she could still remember the delighted urgency in his tone when he’d woken her up at half past five that morning, as though there really was a Santa Claus, and reminded her of the day. As if she hadn’t already known.)

She tucked her toes underneath his thigh as she snuggled into the blanket she’d grabbed from the back of their couch and grinned when he shivered, shooting her a look but not complaining. Deke plopped down on the floor, staring at the tree they’d decorated, with the gifts that she and Fitz had worked tirelessly into the early morning hours wrapping, all in wonderment. He looked so much younger than he had in all the time they’d known one another. Inhibitions completely faded away, just excitement and curiosity flooding his veins.

She saw the same look mirrored on her husband’s features and beamed quietly.

Their Christmas wasn’t much, and it was hardly extravagant, but for the three of them, it was perfect.

Deke was quite pleased with the few things that he’d gotten, although nothing pleased him more than the sweater Mairi had knitted him. (He loved her sweaters and how impossibly warm they felt) and after all of their gifts were unwrapped, he swept off in search for the cordless phone to call her and thank her right away, the pile of clothing, the model kits, and the cotton candy machine that Jemma had acquiesced after seeing dual puppy eyed looks from grandson and grandfather alike, all but forgotten in his excitement.

She loved his excitement and it warmed her as he darted off, a small smile pulling at her cheeks. His gift to her, in particular, had all the markings of his grandfather’s input, but she didn’t say a word. Not with the expectant look Deke had given her when she’d pulled it out of the box. The small snow globe that had to have been custom made had a tiny family in it, similar even at that height to the three of them, and a placard hammered to the bottom commemorating their first Christmas together.

It’d made her cry endlessly, swept up in her own emotions, and Fitz had had to reassure Deke that she loved it while she sobbed, sweeping her fingers across the placard before sweeping him into a tight hug.

The globe sat on the bookshelf, already given its own spot mere moments after it having been given to her, and it was already one of her favorite gifts. If only because she knew that it was from both of them, even if Fitz had neglected to add his name, too.

Other than that, the tablet that Fitz had clearly modified to work better for her sat at her side, and the blender she’d asked for – and made him promise not to modify – was already in the kitchen and the leather journal that she had been eying at the shop the week before, the one that she hadn’t even realized Fitz had caught her staring at, was laid unopened on the coffee table.

(“For the bad days,” he told her, knowing that he had his own tucked away in his nightstand.)

She’d felt so small all at once when it had been her turn to hand over her gifts to him. She’d put thought and effort into each one, and knew that he would never take them for granted, but she’d felt self conscious while he opened each one. From the schematic set of the lab that she had planned to be built in the new year in their backyard once the snow melted which made his eyes light up in wonder, to the soft woolen cardigan that they both knew she’d steal on a cold day, to the tiny pair of booties that had been wrapped up. A ‘not yet’ but a promise, an answer, to a conversation they’d had months before.

The future was unpredictable at best, but it was theirs and theirs alone.

Fitz presented her a small box after the exchange was over. She narrowed her gaze at him, the reminder that they weren’t supposed to buy anything extravagant for one another already on the tip of her tongue when he simply shook his head and nodded toward it. Jemma stared at him for a moment longer before taking it in her hands.

The box was blue velvet, held together with a simple red bow that was messy and uncoordinated and just from the look of it, she could tell he’d been shaking when he’d tied it. Fitz didn’t meet her gaze when she lifted hers upward, a blush on his cheeks as he muttered, “open it” and nothing more.

He’d made a hundred things for her in their friendship together, and then even beyond, and she can’t imagine what has him so embarrassed, or worried, because even though his head was dipped and he was staring at his hands, she could tell that he was. Jemma nodded her head slowly and pulled at the bow until it unraveled in her palms. It fluttered into her lap a moment later when she readjusted her grip and pulled it open.

It took her a moment to realize what she was staring at. Inside the box there was a pendant shaped in an anatomically incorrect shaped heart, but that wasn’t what caught her eye. Rather, it was the glint of a diamond in the middle of the heart, and the bands as they twined together that did. She swallowed, her throat thick as the realization that the pendant had once been their wedding rings a lifetime ago.

“Fitz,” she breathed softly, at a loss for words.

He didn’t stop playing with his fingers, and as she tore her gaze away from the pendant, she saw him suck his lower lip into his mouth and chew on it thoughtfully. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest; so hard that it was almost aching. She knew his had to be, too.

“My therapist told me that sometimes it was better to put the past behind us and move on.” He told her, finally looking up into her gaze. It made her feel heavier, the emotions that danced around in his eyes. “And for the most part I agree with him. But coming to terms with it is important, too.” He added, the reminder something she’d heard him say a hundred times since she’d rescued him from space and brought him home. “We can’t erase that you lived a part of your life without me, and we can’t erase that loss. But we can honor that, and remember that every day. Even on the days when we don’t want to.”

Her lower lip wobbled and she sucked in a breath, reaching in to take the pendant out of it’s box. The long chain followed her pull as she laid the box on top of the ribbon on her lap, holding the pendant gently in her fingertips.

“I don’t want you to forget,” Fitz told her gently, reaching across to cup her cheek. He swiped away an errant tear as it fell down her cheeks. “This is a reminder for the chance we lost,” he told her, pointing to the pendant in her palm. He paused for a moment before dragging his hand to hers and pulling it away gently. He turned it over in his and swiped his thumb across the bands. “And this is a reminder for the one we gained.”

Jemma’s smile was watery as she leaned across the space between them and pressed her lips to his. She hadn’t the slightest idea how to thank him, how to properly put together everything that she was thinking other than that. His hand stroked her cheek as she twisted, pressing his lips open with the flat of her tongue, deepening it.

The pendant fell against her chest as she laid her hand there, the other one moving to lay gently against his neck. This kind, thoughtful man had somehow outdone himself, just by being himself.

They talked almost every night after his sessions, but he’d never given her any indication of his thoughts, or his plans to bring this to fruition. She’d had no idea that he had even known where she’d tucked them, safely away in a box in their closet. She hadn’t wanted to dredge up any bad memories by having them out in the open. Not when they were working on healing.

But his reconfiguring of them, his attempt to bring that all to light and make it something that they wouldn’t look back on in anguish, it was more than she could have ever imagined. The pendant pressed against her heart wasn’t meant to be sorrowful; it was meant to be hopeful.

“Yeah, I’ll ask them, hang on…” Footsteps approached them as Deke, still holding the phone to his ear, came from the kitchen. He made a disgusted noise and wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, hang on, they’re kissing again… oh, yeah, I’ll tell them.” He pulled his mouth away from the receiver just slightly, like they’d been teaching him to, and paused. “Gran said if you two want to stop smooching and make your way over to her house that she already has breakfast on the stove.”

Jemma pulled away, laughing a little as Fitz’s stomach seemed to grumble as though on command, looking over her shoulder at their grandson with a bright, warm smile on her cheeks. “Tell her we’ll be over within the hour, please.” She told him, turning toward her husband a moment later. They shared a soft smile between them.

Deke nodded, scrunching up his nose as he pushed the receiver back to his mouth as he turned around, making a beeline for his room. “Did you hear that?” They heard him ask as he moved further and further away from them. “Yeah. Can we have s’mores for dessert?”

Jemma laughed, shaking her head a little as his voice echoed through their home. Fitz moved, taking the pendant from her palms finally and looping it around her neck. She pressed her fingertips to it once it was laid against her chest and sighed contentedly.

She lifted her fingertips up a beat later, tracing his cheek as he moved forward, pressing their foreheads together. He grabbed both hands in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, grinning at her. “Happy Christmas, Jemma.” He murmured, pulling back only to press a kiss to her forehead before resting it back against hers.

Jemma grinned, too, contented and warm and loved. Without knowing it, this had been a day since she’d been dreaming of for years. The quiet and peacefulness that surrounded them, the feel of home, and the domesticity of it all. A few rooms down, she could hear their grandson try not to swear as he hit his head on the doorway whilst trying to get dressed, very obviously still on the phone with Mairi, and right in front of her was her husband, a man that she had spent months searching for and had done the same for her thrice over. The person she was going to spend the rest of her days with, the one that she would eventually begin a family with, not disregarding the part of it they already had.

“Happy Christmas, Fitz,” she whispered, and pecked his lips.

Happy Christmas, indeed.


End file.
